


Darkly Dreaming

by prettier_in_enochian



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-09 18:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/776480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettier_in_enochian/pseuds/prettier_in_enochian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel was one to live a quiet apple pie life, watching the screws fall in and out of the imperfect place that was the world, hiding himself in obscurity.</p><p>Dean and Sam Winchester did the exact opposite, leaving a trail of blood and fire in their wake. </p><p>Somehow their paths will cross, making a man rise and an angel fall</p><p>All because of a god damn cheeseburger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkly Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh I really shouldn't be starting another fic but plot bunnies are kind of like herpes and you can't just get rid of them so here you go: a serial killer AU. I've been watching too many dark things lately. Especially Dexter so this is heavily influenced by that. I'm trying to be as true as I can be to the canonicity of the show as well as factually correct so if any advice is presented it would be awesome to get messaged. Alright.

Rain pattered down on the darkly lit pavement. It had been raining for hours, single droplets of water swirling their way through the gnarled rocks in the cement, forming little clear mirrors that if stared at would reflect the twinkling darkness of your soul. The cracks only grew wider, time and rubber pounding away at the street until it was as dead as the figures it held. You see, Dean Winchester was dead. Not in the common human sense, but in the sense where he felt nothing. Where most people would feel the tinge of happiness or excitement or even remorse, Dean only felt an empty void, as empty as any ocean. It had it's perks though. Sometimes.

"Come on Sammy, quit making that bitch face."

A sour grunt and the sound of dragging boots was the only response. Dean turned his head over his shoulder only to find the empty gaze of his brother clutching a plastic container of gasoline to his chest. Dean let out a soft sigh. Tonight had been especially hard on both of them, especially Sammy. Dean knew how hard it was to wait, to keep the hunger away. Sometimes you were lucky to get rid of that hunger, sometimes you were left stranded like a dog, salivating for that little piece of sanity your being so desperately craved. Dean balanced precariously on the heel of his worn leather boots, engraving the red into the puddles under his feet. Blood was such a bitch to get rid of...

"Dean we really need to get out of here..."

Sam huffed as he approached his brother, his hazel eyes drooping and his body swaying, looking ready to collapse. Standing in at over 6 feet, Sam Winchester looked like a lovable huge puppy. All big smiles and floppy hair. Of course no one ever noticed how his smiles almost never reached his eyes and how tired and weary his eyes were in the wrong light. Dean nodded sympathetically, wiping off his bloody hand on his jeans before wrapping his arm around his younger brother. This is one of the few things he felt something for. Something about caring for Sammy ever since he was a newborn in his tiny grubby four year old arms. Maybe it was because his baby brother was just as damaged as he was... in his own way.

"We're almost there Sammy. I may not be able to carry your burden but I can carry you little brother."

Sam let out a dry chuckle as he limped.

"You were always such a nerd..."

Dean laughed at that, clocking his brother softly over his head. Damn his lack of height. They limped as they reached their destination, the 1967 Chevy Impala hiding in the shadows of the stormy night. Dean patted the slick metal gingerly. This car was the last remnant of his normal life, a memory etched in every surface of his car, from the aging dashboard to the crevices of the air vents.

"Dean come on i'm freezing my ass off out here"

Sam grunted as his grip on the red plastic container slowly becoming less and less firm. Dean frowned and inserted the key on the passanger side, unlocking it and rounding his way back to the trunk. Another click and push and Dean was faced with his personal little heaven. To anyone it would look like a macabre toolbox, making them stumble back a few steps in horror but it only brought a soft grin to the elder Winchester's face. Dean's fingers ran thtough his supplies, dirtied knives and loaded guns, empty matches and bits of pieces of everything else. Dean huffed softly as he picked up a knife from the pile, the metal glinting as the dull light from the tailights hit it, rain washing away the cherry stains from the tip. Whoever planted the seed that doing this was done for pure fun hadn't been completely right. Of course, some people killed for the fun, for the thrill of the hunt and the complex that comes with ending a trembling human life. For Dean it was a carnal need. Just like eating or breathing, killing was just something that was ingrained into his very being.

"Dean!"

Sam poked his head out of the window, his hair matting even more against his face as Dean looked up from the trunk and nodded, closing the back of his car and rushing to the driver's side.

"You know if you keep taking so long we're going to get caught..."

Sam grumbled as he reached for the towel on the backseat, the car rumbling to life beneath him. Dean gripped the steering wheel and gave it a sharp tug, yanking the car from the grass back onto the slippery road.

" I know the rules Sammy. I know what i'm doing. If John taught me one thing, it was not to get caught."

Dean's eyes stayed fixed on the road, an uneasy silence settling in the small space of the vehicle. Sam shifted in his seat, his beloved container sitting on his legs. Dean gave it a sideways glance and sighed. He knew how Sam must be feeling right now, his body aching for the warm bright destructive light he obviously craved. It wasn't his fault that he couldn't have done what he wanted, if they had spent too much time back there they would have gotten caught for sure and the rain wouldn't have been kind to Sammy's creation either. Dean closed his eyes and pushed the break hard, the wheels squealing in protest. Sam's head picked up to look at his brother in confusion. Dean turned away from the road onto the patchy grass, driving into the middle of a clearing. The rain had subsided, leaving a misty wind and smoky purple clouds in it's wake. Sam's face grew more and more confused by the second.

"Dean wha-"

"Go do your thing Sammy. I'll keep watch."

"My thi-"

"Go Sam, we don't have much time."

Sam's eyes grew round in recognizion and raced out of the car, his container in tow as he ran to the middle of the field and emptied its contents out on the grass, drawing wet patterns. Dean watched as he leaned against his car, his eyes set on his little brother. He watched as Sam pulled out a box of matches, striking the red tip against the felt and saw the spark flare up brightly, a beacon in Sam's eyes. Fingers let gravity take over, the match falling down to meet the ground. Suddenly, the tiny flicker grew larger and larger, tracing the pattern that Sam had previously layed out. Sam's eyes followed the trail, flickering just like the fire swirling and flying in front of him. Sam hovered his hands over the glowing heat, taking in his creation. Of course, this could only satisfy his hunger for a little bit, this was merely a snack before the main course. The grass was still dewy from the rain and smoke likes to curl and rise and alert others of human life. He quickly gathered the dewy leaves and spread them over the fire, snuffing out the life and his happiness with it. Dean only watched, his hands on the car hood as he waited for his brother to finish. This wasn't the first time this had happened, in fact he was pretty used to it. After the job was done, Sam rushed over to Dean's side, climbing into the car and grinning serenely. Dean grinned softly as he pulled back onto the road, Def Leppard blasting from their speakers. It had been an eventful night. Hard, but eventful. Blood and fire littered the streets, and really, what else could a serial killer and a pyromaniac ask for? Sam looked over at his brother gratefully.

"Thanks man, you-"

Dean lifted up his hand as his brother started to speak.

"Dude it's fine. No chick flick moments remember? Now... You wanna go for some pie and burgers?"

**********

It had been another normal day at the office.

And by normal that means it was a boring, dull, monotonus day full of annoying coworkers and even more annoying clients.  
Castiel dragged his leather clad feet across the creamy carpet, collapsing on the worn sofa, his suitcase falling on the carpet with a soft thud. How had his life come to this? Here he was, 28 years old already slaving away as a tax accountant. Or as a "holy" tax accountant, as he was jokingly called at the office. He closed his eyes, rubbing his fingers against his forehead. All for the sake of pleasing his family. It was almost as if he didn't actually own his life, all important decisions were made by his siblings. It's what he got for being damned as the youngest he supposed. The youngest in the ragtag group he called his family since his parents died. In reality there was only one aspect of his life he did control, and that one took up all his full time sanity in order to be kept at bay. Oh what he would give not to be so fuc-

_"Meow!"_

Castiel looked down, feeling tiny claws imprint themselves in his slacks. He reached down and picked the black cat gingerly, placing her in his lap and petting her head softly.

"Hello Meg."

The cat purred contently, arching herself into Castiel's touch. Castiel frowned slightly. This wasn't usual of Meg. Usually she kept her distance, only becoming affectionate when she either wanted something or she had done something wrong. He removed his hand from her head slowly, getting a small hiss for his efforts.

"Okay Meg, what have you done?"

Big yellow eyes stared up innocently at Castiel, unblinking as if to say _"What would make you think such a thing?!"_

But Castiel knew better.

He picked her up and set her on the ground softly, letting her pad away slowly to her scratching post. Her food bowl was full so that wasn't the problem. Castiel braced himself for whatever precious object his cat had ruined now. The last thing she ruined was his beloved trenchcoat that was given to him when his father died. Castiel wasn't still quite over that little stunt. But he had promised Anna that he would keep her just for the sake of company, if for nothing else. To be honest, Castiel didn't see why it was not acceptable to be alone. He didn't feel uncomfortable on his own, in fact, he embraced it. People, as a general rule of thumb were difficult to understand, and even harder to please. In fact, it seemed to be easier to hurt people than to do anything else. No matter who it was, short, tall, man, woman, old, young, that was the only constant. People were easily hurt. So he stayed away. Away from the petty rituals of the social world.

Castiel glanced around, realizing that he had ended up in his own room. He looked behind him to see Meg peeking at him from the corner, watching catiously with careful eyes. He scanned his room precasiously, trying to find the indiscretion when his eyes snapped to his bedside. He kneeled down on the floor, watching the small gray lump laying on the ground. Meg followed close behind, padding softly and standing behind her owner. Castiel sighed. It was only a dead mouse. Apparently Meg decided it would be ideal to kill a mouse on his bedside as a token of her appreciation. At least she had been neat about it. Castiel turned to his cat, petting the spot between her ears as she purred.

"We're not that different are we?"

Meg continued to purr, oblivious to her owner's comment. Castiel took his cue and disposed of the little gift, washing his hands in the kitchen sink. He watched as the water swirled it's way through his fingers, the icy cold of the water doing nothing to perk up his thoughts. A sudden vibration in his pants followed by some upbeat song that Castiel didn't recognize broke him from his thoughts. Only one guess who it could be. Castiel didn't even bother looking at the screen as he answered the phone.

"Gabriel."

"Woah, Hi. I'm happy to hear from you too little bro."

Castiel sighed as he heard the ever too familiar sucking sound on the other end of the line.

"What is the matter Gabriel?"

"Can't I just call to hear your beautiful voice? I'm just calling to check up on you. After last time we got a bit worried. You sure yo-"

"I am fine Gabriel."

"See, this is the stuff i'm talking about little bro. I know it can be hard to contr-"

"I can control myself just fine. I appreciate the concern, but you and Anna really should not preoccupy yourselves with my well being."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that. You're quiet, geeky, socially awkward and i'm pretty sure you're still a virgin. You are right?"

Castiel rolled his eyes as he looked through his pantry, trying to gather objects for his dinner.

"Must it always come back to sex with you?"

"Well considering your refusal for human interaction i wouldn't be too surprised to see that you haven't popped any cherries. Or gotten yours popped, I don't judge either way bro. It's all cool."

"Gabriel i'm going to hang up now."

"Hey hold on. I was only kidding. I have a reputation to uphold you know! What would become of me if it got out that Gabriel Novak's little brother was still as pure as-"

"Goodbye Gabriel."

"No, wait! Just so you know, Me and Anna are gonna be in town soon so we'll be dropping by. See you soon little bro."

The audible click of the call ending resounded through Castiel's ears as he set his phone down. He loved Gabriel, he really did, but sometimes he was a bit of a handful. He looked down at the objects in his hands. A can of spam and a bag of chips. He looked down at his objects and frowned, reaching for his car keys. It had been a hard day and he had the right to indulge once in a whlie.

Burgers for dinner it is.

 


End file.
